Johanna Potter and the Whole of the Moon
by RandomFandom5
Summary: Johanna and company are back for their second year! This story contains the following: randomness, Actor!Fred and Actress!Johanna, a ton of minor OCs, Charli insisting that she is, in fact, NOT a hobbit, and song lyrics. Oh yeah, and a life-changing event. All that and more, right here! Warning-violence and mild language. It is advised to read the first story in this series. Enjoy!
1. Prologue&In Which It's Just Another Day

Johanna Potter and the Whole of the Moon

Prologue: In Which I Am Confused By Myself

Hey, everyone! Johanna here with the second installment of my epic tale of epicness. Hope you enjoy the epic! Also epic. Epic.

RandomFandom: Stop saying epic or I'll take over doing the opening ANs for this one.

Johanna: Eep. Oh yeah, and the stick in the mud up there doesn't own Harry Potter.

RandomFandom: Stick in the mud?! Why you—*starts chasing Johanna, pauses to talk to you for a second* Read on! *resumes chasing her OC*

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One thing you need to know about me is that I like the things I hate.

For example, I like Potions. I'm good at it. I hate it because of Professor Snape. I like Slytherins because of one of my best friends, Charlotte DuCrall (or, as everyone calls her, Charli). She's a Slytherin, and one of the nicest people I know.

So, my point is, I refer to a lot of stuff as "the best and worst." One of them is my second year (two others are my seventh year and the year after Harry's seventh, but I'm not going to get into that right now). I liked it because I learned a lot about myself. I learned that I like being busy. I learned that Muggle stuff is better than wizard stuff. Also, I learned that I'm secure. I'm proud of who I am, and I wouldn't want to change a thing. Not even—but that comes later in this story.

And so, as I said before...enjoy!

Chapter One: In Which It's Just Another Day

Most people were inside at 5:45. They didn't want to see the sunrise. They didn't want to go outside before the day heated up.

But then again, we had never been "most people."

Which is why, at a time of morning when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, and Percy were asleep, we sneaked around the side of the Burrow to our bikes and rode out of the yard and up the road.

We stuffed items such as sunblock, packs of crisps, sandwiches, and changes of clothes into our bike baskets. We were rarely the kind of people to plan ahead. This was one of the occasions when we did.

The construction site was about a mile away. We (meaning me, the twins, Ron, and Ginny, by the way) rode our bikes there. We got off and stood there, just admiring. It may not sound special to you, but it housed something amazing.

We carefully picked our way over the piles of rubble. Well, at least Ron and Ginny did. The twins and I just scrambled over rocks and tried to get to the pool faster than the others.

It wasn't a pool, really. It was more of a pond. It was actually a glade. It was just behind the construction site, and just beyond a filthy rubbish-covered highway. That's why we called it The Oasis, because that's what it was, an oasis. It was concealed from view by trees. There was only a small circle of trees because the others had been chopped down to make room for the highway. Inside the trees was a garden. The light was dappled. The grass was soft and bright green. The wildflowers popped up unexpectedly beneath our feet. The pool...it was amazing. We thought someone had enchanted it or something a while back. The waves swished gently back and forth. It was relievingly cool. The summer was wildly hot, and we needed a place to cool our feet, and what better place than our special place?

We arrived there. I instantly took off my shoes and jumped up to climb a tree. Not to brag, but I'm the best tree-climber in Ottery St. Catchpole. I rule over the trees. Trees cower before me. I don't know why I'm talking like this.

There was a small cliff by the side of the pool. It was only about ten feet above the surface of the water, and a narrow piece of rock stretched out about ten feet also. It was our diving board.

I decided to be a daredevil. "Watch this!" I holl-ered. I stood up on my thick branch. I took a deep breath and sprang up. I turned over and over in a flip before I hit the water hard. Fred and George clapped and whistled. Ron and Ginny stared at me in awe. I smirked. He didn't put his elbow in the butter when I talked to him, but I get the feeling that Ron had a bit of a crush on me. That is, he _did_, until a lee-tle _someone _came into play (*cough* Hermione *cough cough*).

I doggy-paddled over to the edge of the water, put my elbows up on the grass, and rested my chin on my arms. The twins slid down the rock they were sitting on and landed Indian-style on the ground in front of me.

"Hey, Johanna," whispered Fred, leaning in. "We've been pretty low-key for a few weeks." I grinned mischievously.

"What should we do this time?" We had been pretty bored all summer, since it was the summer after our first year and we hadn't gotten used to not being at Hogwarts yet. Well, we never would until after we "graduated." Anyway, as always, we only had two things to keep us occupied. One, "science experiments." That's what we called it when we attempted to make joke shop products in our shared room that always ended in explosions. Two, pranking the others. Mainly Percy, because, you know, he's a ginormous prat and everything.

We discreetly got out some balloons and filled them with water from the pool. We tied them and stored them in the basket of my bike. We planned to throw them at Percy later on.

"Look!" said Ginny suddenly. We looked. The sun was coming up over the side of the hill that led down to the highway. Not to sound smushy or anything, but seeing the sunrise was my favorite part of the day, other than midnight. I felt that the two times had some key things in common. Not many people were awake to see them. One was the official start of a new day, and one was the universal start of a new day. But most of all, they were both peaceful. Still. Quiet. Nobody made them happen, they just...happened.

The others sat completely still until the sun was fully in the sky, then we jumped around cheering. I always climbed with the sun without realizing it. I slowly stood up, crossed the grass, and climbed a tree. I was up in the sky with the sun when we started cheering.

My gaze swept over the hill and the highway. I turned to look over at the construction site. It was mine. My territory. Well, our territory. Nobody other than us was allowed to think about it, enjoy it, like we did. We were fiercely protective of our turf.

After about three hours, we went home. We crossed the construction site and grabbed our bikes. Well, Ron and Ginny and the twins did. I insisted on bringing my bike to The Oasis. I didn't know why. I just liked to. We rode back, dumped our bikes behind the house, and ran inside.

I think of the Burrow as the definition of home. That, Hogwarts, and the memories I still have of the house in Godric's Hollow. The Burrow is just...it's where you dump your bike. It's where you can leave your stuff strewn all over the floor and do "science experiments." It's where you can run through the door and scream, "GUESS WHAT!" and you won't be chewed out by irate prefects. Well, Percy doesn't count. It's where the heart is. It's where you're forced to eat seconds and thirds at dinner. Basically what I'm saying is, it's where you have a real family.

The Weasleys, in turn, were my definition of a family. Seven kids and an adoptive daughter who's also two of those kids' best friend may not be your idea of family, but they are the family I have, not counting Harry and, of course, not counting the Dursleys. Bill was _the oldest. _We didn't get mad when he bossed us around. He was the one who broke it up when our fights went too far.

Charlie was the laid-back one. He basically let us do whatever we wanted. He told Bill to lay off us when he was particularly bossy. Bill was cool, but Charlie was cooler. He wanted to be a dragon-trainer.

Percy, of course, was the one that we always made fun of. We screeched, "HE SHUSHED ME!" when he shushed us. He hoped to be Minister of Magic. He was the one that laid down and let everyone walk on him, though he pretended he didn't. He was the one that could get serious damage done by Ginny.

Ron was the dork. He walked around with his finger shoved up knuckle-deep in his nose, thinking we didn't see him. He couldn't walk and chew Drooble's Blowing Gum at the same time. Sometimes he inexplicably had dirt on his face. We insisted on calling him Ickle Ronniekins because it irritated him.

Ginny was a tomboy for sure. Granted, she was less of a tomboy than me, but I knew she sneaked out and stole our brooms because the others wouldn't let her play Quidditch with us. She could take care of herself, that Ginevra (if you're reading this, Ginny, I called you Ginevra as a _joke. _Please don't hurt me).

As the chappie title suggests, it was just another day.

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Johanna: *is eating gummy bears, not paying attention*

RandomFandom: Johanna...

Johanna: *still not paying attention*

RandomFandom: _Johanna..._

Johanna: *starts re-braiding her hair*

RandomFandom: JOHANNA POTTER, IF YOU DON'T START DOING THE AN THIS INSTANT I WILL TAKE EVERY SINGLE GUMMY BEAR IN THIS ROOM AND EAT IT RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE!

Johanna: *finally responds* ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH! Don't hurt my babies! *leaps to protect her gummy bears*

RandomFandom: Well, get your butt over here and ask for reviews! *starts to storm out, but turns around in front of the door* And don't threaten the readers!

Johanna: Fine! *huffs* Review. Please. It'll make four-eyes over there in a better mood.

RandomFandom: YOUR BROTHER HAS STUPIDER GLASSES THAN ME!

Harry: I do not!

RandomFandom: SINCE WHEN ARE YOU ALLOWED IN HERE?! OUT! OUT!

Harry: I defeated Voldemort and you expect me to be scared of you?

Johanna: Harry, NO!

RandomFandom: *lunges for Harry*

Harry: *runs screaming*

RandomFandom: *turns back calmly* Review, please. It would make my day. *resumes trying to kill the Potter siblings*


	2. In Which We Surprise Ourselves

Chapter Two: In Which We Surprise Ourselves

Hello again, all! Fancy meeting you here! RandomFandom doesn't own Harry Potter!

RandomFandom: *whispers* She's in a good mood today...

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Di Al rules. Di Al is our slang for Diagon Alley. And yes, it does rule. That's why we high-fived when Mrs. Weasley said we were going for our school supplies.

When we got there, we all split up. Percy and Mrs. Weasley made a beeline for Flourish and Blotts. Mr. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny headed for Gringotts (Ron and Ginny think riding the cart is like a Muggle roller-coaster), Charlie went to Magical Menagerie. As for us? We made our way to Gambol and Japes, of course.

I don't know about the twins, but I kinda felt sorry. I mean, for us inevitably putting Gambol and Japes out of business. The first time we went to Di Al was also the first time we ever went inside a joke shop. We knew from the first instant that we had struck gold.

We stepped inside. We browsed the shelves. It was familiar to us by now. Dungbombs, Filibuster Fireworks, and everything else. Despite that, we never tired of it.

Once Charlie dragged us out, we were less enthusiastic about Di Al. That isn't to say we weren't enthusiastic. We followed Percy around and asked "Whatcha readin'?" every twenty-nine seconds. Literally. We actually counted. We were that crazy.

"All right, kids, settle down," said Mrs. Weasley sternly. We groaned in unison. When she said that, it meant we were going home.

We came home and were bored for the rest of the day. Well, I was only slightly bored. I had my drawing.

It's not that I'm a good artist. I'm not. I just like to draw. Painting, too, but that always ends up as what we call "abstract" because we think it sounds cool, (what everyone else calls "random splatters of color," because that's what it is).

I like to draw because I can draw anything. Well, technically, it's because the drawings are mine. There are some things that I'm dying to say, but can't, not out loud. So I draw them. Once I drew a cobra reared up with red eyes and a very Voldemort-esque face.

I also like to draw things that I can say out loud, but would get laughed at if I did. That's what I draw normally. Like once I randomly drew a girl barfing into a cauldron. I also once drew a chicken going "moooo."

What was I drawing then?

Fireworks.

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We waved frantically out the window of the Hogwarts Express. We were on our way to our second year.

"Compartment?" I said to the twins.

"Yerp," they responded in perfect unison.

We scanned the train. We couldn't find any empty ones. But just when we were about to give up and beg the nearby fifth year Hufflepuffs—

"Over here!"

We looked over and our faces split into grins. There sat the three other members of our group. Nearest to the window was a pale girl with a silver coloured pencil stuck through the base of her short dark ponytail and who tipped the scales at eighty-five pounds soaking wet. This was Charli the Slytherin. Next to her was a tall black girl with even darker, long, straight hair. She was Angelina Johnson. Finally there was a boy with dreadlocks and a large box in his hand. That was Lee Jordan.

We walked over and sat across from them (me across from Charli, Fred across from Angelina, and George across from Lee). "Hi," said Fred.

"What's in the box, Lee?" asked George curiously.

Lee grinned. "A turtle."

"Huh?" we said in unison.

"That's right, a turtle," said Charli in her high, sar-castic voice.

"He named it Foofy," added Angelina, rolling her gray-blue eyes.

"Foofy?" I repeated incredulously. "For a turtle?"

"Yeah," said Lee. "I named her Foofy because she's not foofy at all. It's funny."

"How do you know it's a girl?" questioned George.

He leaned over to whisper it. "Isn't that under its shell?" Fred inquired confusedly.

"Don't ask," Lee advised him simply.

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The rest of the journey was pretty mellow, except for when George gagged on an Every Flavour Bean ("I swear, it was booger!") and when the ends of Angelina's hair got singed off when we were playing Exploding Snap (that's how I've gone most of my life without getting a haircut, kids). Until...

"I heard what we're doing in Hogwarts this year," said Charli slyly.

"What? Is it a project?"

"Sort of, but not really."

"Are our lessons getting changed somehow?"

"Nope."

"Then what?"

"You think I'm gonna tell?"

This infuriated us. She always does stuff like that. She's like the most devious person ever. "ARGH! You are such a SLYTHERIN!" howled Fred.

She smiled sweetly. "Thank you."

We made speculations about what it could be. Some of our guesses were we were going to switch Houses for the year ("Eww!" we exclaimed), there would be a year without any rules (we hoped it was that one), and even that we would be turned into Muggles (Charli and Angelina, being Muggleborn, just shrugged, but the rest of us panicked slightly).

Looking back, I can't believe we didn't guess what it was. Charli gave us a hint that it had to do with music. It actually was a project, sort of. It was a project the way being on the Quidditch team is a project.

Well, what was it? You'll have to wait and find out for yourselves, just like we did. Don't worry, I will tell you. Just not right this moment.

Who's devious now?

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Well, we finally got to Hogwarts. We were inexplicably excited about riding the carriages for the first time.

Now, this is a pretty key part in this story. You might not think sauntering up to an empty carriage is key, but it wasn't what I did. It's what I saw.

My eyes swept over the carriage as I pushed myself up into it with my foot. Then I did a double-take. Pulling the carriage was a weird lizard dragon horse thing. It had huge wings and it was black and scaly. Its eyes were blank and white with no pupils. Needless to say, it really creeped me out.

I looked over at the others. "What do you think that thing is?" I asked.

They looked back at me. "What thing?" asked Lee.

My eyes widened so that they were even rounder than normal. "You can't see it?" I said. "It's right there."

They stared at me like I was mad. I did what I do every time I get really frustrated: scrunched up my face, rolled my eyes, and smacked the side of my forehead with the palm of my hand. _This is just like when we found out I was a Parselmouth_, I thought angrily. _They thought I was mad then too._

I just slumped in my seat and didn't say anything. If I did, I would probably just confirm their suspicions about my mental health.

We got in and settled down for the Sorting. "Ardin, Michelle!"

A tall girl with hair in a long ginger ponytail and a face like a fox stepped up and sat primly on the stool.

"SLYTHERIN!"

_Obviously_, I thought.

The Sorting continued without us paying much attention, except for cheering for the Gryffindors (Katherine Bell, Alexander Cricket, Benjamin Grey, Tyler Kinbury, Lucille Lunerre, Cormac McLaggen, and Naomi Wentser). It was what came after the Sorting that made our heads snap up. Well, technically, it was after the feast. Dumbledore was making his announcements. We only paid attention to when Quidditch tryouts were.

"...and, finally, I have one very, very important announcement, even more important than Fanged Frisbees being banned."

He was going to say what the thing that Charli was talking about on the train was!

"Many of you," Dumbledore continued. "Are Muggleborn, so you have heard of several different kinds of media. However, there is one that has been around, for both wizards and Muggles, almost since the beginning of time—_acting. _Which is why we will be performing a Muggle musical this year!"

"Why would we do _that?_" a voice from the Slytherin table called rudely. I could almost hear Charli snarling, "Shut it, dalmation." That was her Muggleborn version of the M-word.

Dumbledore ignored him and said that tryouts were on Tuesday and we would be watching the musical on DVD on Saturday in the Great Hall.

Angelina twisted in her seat to face the twins and me. "You think you're gonna try out?" she whispered to us.

"Nah," we all replied at the same time.

"Do you?" I asked Angelina. She gave the same answer as us.

So what if there was a musical at school? That was more of a Charli thing. Us, we liked to display our skills on the Quidditch pitch or to Percy, soaking wet with water balloons. Not on a stage. No, it just wasn't _us._

Or so we thought.

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On Saturday, we flocked with everyone else down to the Great Hall. When we entered, we were impressed. A long, large stage had been conjured up behind the staff table. The tables were gone, replaced by theater-style sloping seats. We decided to sit in the back with our popcorn (they were selling some, we were peckish, and I had some extra gold on me).

The musical was called "Cats." It was projected onto the curtain, which was midnight black. It started with a bunch of cat eyes appearing on a black backdrop, set to mysterious music. Then the actual musical started. The first song was pretty catchy, although it said this made-up word, "jellicle," about a thousand times. Then there was this really mysterious one that was just slow, rhythmic talking. Then there was one that I had to admit was very pretty. It talked about the Jellicle Ball. But even when we jumped up and started dancing to the fifth one, we still didn't want to be in the musical.

That is, we didn't until the eighth song.

It was after this really, really dumb song about a really, really fat cat called Bustopher Jones and some random cat hollering "MACAVITY!" and everyone freaking out. We weren't really paying attention until the song started. It started with a very high-pitched laugh, then someone going "shhh!" Then two cats popped up, a guy and a girl. They were holding bags. They backed up and bumped into each other, then they started singing. It turned out the song was about two cats named Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer (Mungojerrie was the guy and Rumpleteazer was the girl) who were always where they weren't supposed to be. They went into people's houses, swiped random stuff, and ran off. When something went wrong, it was always their fault.

When the song was over, it went into a really quiet song about a cat called Old Deuteronomy. We looked at Charli.

"When did Dumbledore say tryouts were, again?

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RandomFandom recommends looking up "Cats musical" on YouTube. She says it'll be worth it. And trust me it will be. That musical is awesome. Oh yeah, and review. Please.


	3. In Which We're No Earthly Good

Chapter Three: In Which We're No Earthly Good

Hi! You can skip the song at the beginning if you mind mild language and references to abuse. The song is supposed to be funny, but...*shrugs* Whatever. RandomFandom doesn't own Harry Potter, Cats, or West Side Story (it's an awesome musical, you should see it sometime). That's where the song comes from.

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We were going to try out for the part of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. The twins did Rock, Paper, Scissors and Fred won, so he and I were trying out.

We asked what we should do for our tryouts since we didn't know any dance moves and we didn't know our song. Charli suggested we do another song. It didn't take long to figure out which song we would do.

"Okay," I said. "How does this sound?" Charli switched on the music and we started singing.

Me: _Deeeear kindly Sergeant Krupke_

_Ya gotta understand_

_It's just our bringin' up-ke_

_That gets us outta hand_

_Our mothers all are junkies_

_Our fathers all are drunks_

_Golly Moses, naturally we're punks!_

Both of us: _Gee, Officer Krupke, we're very upset_

_We never had the love that every child oughta get _

_We ain't no delinquents, we're misunderstood _

_Deep down inside us, there is good!_

Me: _There is good!_

Both of us: _There is good, there is good_

_There is untapped good_

_Like inside the worst of us is good!_

Fred (speaking): That's a touchin' good story!

Me: Lemme tell it to the world (I spin around with my arms out on the word "world")!

Fred: Just tell it to the judge!

Me (singing): _Deeeeear kindly judge, your honor_

_My parents treat me rough_

_With all the marijuana_

_They won't give me a puff_

_They didn't wanna have me_

_But somehow I was had_

_Leapin' lizards, that's why I'm so bad!_

Fred: Right!

_Officer Krupke, you're really a square_

_This girl don't need a judge, she needs an analyst's care__!_

_It's just her neurosis_

_That oughta be curbed_

(twirling finger around ear) _She's psychologically disturbed!_

Me: _I'm disturbed!_

Both of us: _We're disturbed, we're disturbed_

_We're the most disturbed_

_Like we're psychologically disturbed!_

Fred (speaking): Hear ye, hear ye!

In this opinion of this court

This child is depraved on account of she ain't had a normal home.

Me (pointing to myself with my thumbs): Hey, I'm depraved on account I'm deprived!

Fred: So take her to a head-shrinker!

Me (singing): _Myyyy daddy beats my mummy_

_My mummy clobbers me_

_My grandpa is a commie _

_My grandma pushes tea_

_My sister wears a mustache _

_My brother wears a dress_

_Goodness gracious, that's why I'm a mess!_

Fred: Yes!

_Officer Krupke, you're really a slob_

_This girl don't need a doctor, just a good honest job_

_Society's played her a terrible trick_

_And, sociologically, she's sick!_

Me: _I am sick!_

Both of us: _We are sick, we are sick_

_We are sick sick sick_

_Like we're sociologically sick _(I fall down flat on my back on the word "sick")_!_

Fred (speaking): In my opinion, this child don't need to have her head shrunk at all.

Juvenile delinquency is purely a social disease!

Me (sitting up): Hey, I got a social disease!

Fred: So take her to a social worker!

(I jump up and run over to Fred, putting my hands on his shoulders)

Me: _Deeeear kindly social worker_

_They say go get a job_

_I'd be a soda jerker_

_Which means I'd be a slob _(Fred wipes his eye as though I spit on him)

_It's not I'm antisocial_

_I'm only anti-work_

_Gloryosky, that's why I'm a jerk!_

Fred (jumping up): Eek!

_Officer Krupke, you've done it again_

_This girl don't need a job, she needs a year in the pen!_

_It ain't just a question of misunderstood_

_Deep down inside her, SHE'S NO GOOD!_

Me: _I'M NO GOOD!_

Both of us: _We're no good, we're no good_

_We're no earthly good_

_Like the best of us is NO DAMN GOOD!_

Fred (punctuating each line with a cuff on my head): _The trouble is she's lazy!_

_The trouble is she drinks!_

_The trouble is she's crazy!_

_The trouble is she stinks!_

_The trouble is she's growing!_

_The trouble is she's grown!_

Both of us: _Krupke, we've got troubles of our own!_

(getting down on knees) _Gee, Officer Krupke, we're down on our knees_

Me: _'Cause no one wants a fella with a social disease!_

Both of us: _Gee, Officer Krupke, what are we to do? _

Me: _Gee, Officer Krupke—_ (I shove Fred and he falls down) _KRUP YOU!_

We finished with a wacky pose. The others were cheering and clapping.

"So, er...were we good?" I asked uncertainly.

"Are you _kidding?_" squeaked Charli, wiping tears of laughter out of her overlarge dark brown eyes. "That was _brilliant! _You guys'll get the part for _sure!_"

"Charli's right," agreed Angelina. "The casters will be _begging_ you to be in the play."

"I guess," said Fred halfheartedly.

George stared at his twin. "Are you _nervous?_" he asked incredulously."Man, I've been stuck with you since birth and I've never seen you nervous. It's just a play."

"But it's a play with the perfect part for us, and if we don't get it, then..." I trailed off.

Lee rolled his eyes. "Are you afraid someone's gonna laugh at you? You've gotten laughed at a million times. You don't care what anyone thinks of you."

"It is _not _that. It's just we really want the part," Fred told them defensively.

"Well," said Charli wisely. "If you want this part, then be yourselves. You already said that these characters were just like you. If you be yourselves, they'll love you. Don't worry. It'll be great."

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We waited in line for the tryouts. Charli was about four lines to our right. She was trying out for Cassandra, this really shiny black cat. Six lines to our left, Charli's only Slytherin friend, Amanda Quail, stood with her curly strawberry-blond hair in a messy knot at the back of her head. She was trying out for Jennyanydots, a yellow tabby who had a very Percy-ish nature.

"There are kids in front of us who can do triple backflips," I hissed.

"Well, we don't have to do triple backflips at any point in the play, do we?" Fred hissed back. "So we're safe." But I wasn't so sure.

"Fred Weasley and Johanna Potter," called a bored-sounding voice. We looked at each other. _This is it._ We stepped forward.

Many people perked up their ears when they heard my name and many a pair of eyes darted toward the base of my neck. I rolled my eyes.

We both took a deep breath and burst into "Gee, Officer Krupke." One of the casters seemed to know the song, for she was nodding her head in time to the music. The rest just looked interested. When we finished, we bowed deeply and sauntered out.

About 2 hours later, they came out and said that they had made their final decisions. Charli got to be Cassandra's understudy.

Finally— "Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer will be played by Fred Weasley and Johanna Potter."

It took a second for these words to register. "Well, at least we tried our—wait, WHAT?!" I squawked.

We ran over to where our friends were waiting to hear the verdict. "Well?" demanded Angelina.

"Meet Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer!" said Fred happily. They started jumping around, screeching, and hugging us so tight we thought we were going to pop.

"YOU'REINTHEPLAYYOU'REINTHEPLAYYOU'REINTHEPLAYYOU'REINTHEPLAY!" hollered Angelina. Oh, you think she's hyperactive? Try seeing her after she got off the Hogwarts Express after graduation. _That's _hyperactive.

The first rehearsal was this Friday after dinner. Everyone had to come, even the understudies.

We would meet on the stage all year. There would be a stage behind the staff table all year, even during meals. There were two sets of small steps on either side of the stage. We preferred to leap up and climb on. The front of the stage was high and hard to reach the top of. That's what made it fun.

Directly below the stage, there was an orchestra pit with a bunch of instruments that played themselves. We often jumped down there, hid, and pretended we were first years who were "h-h-hopelessly s-s-stuck!" under the stage.

We crossed the stage. I turned outward at the front. I imagined everyone in the entire school looking up at me, giving me a standing ovation. I smiled at the thought. In this way, my daydreams were similar to my brother's. We both loved the thought of being clapped and cheered for, not because we were the famous Boy and Girl Who Lived, but because we were us. That's it. We wanted to _try_ to have people in awe of us.

I looked over my shoulder and saw that there was a kind of knot-circle-thing in the center of the stage. I walked over and automatically sat between Fred and Charli.

As it turned out, we were going to play one of those lame, break-the-ice, get-to-know-you games for the entire first rehearsal. We had to say our first and last names, what we went by, our year and our House, who we played, and a couple of other miscellaneous stuff about ourselves.

A tall girl with straight white-blond pigtails went first. "Hello," she said regally (how can you say hello regal-ly?). "I am Lilah Mitchells, I am a fifth year Slytherin, I play Bombalurina, and my favourite colour is pink."

Charli, Fred, and I exchanged looks. We imme-diately disliked this Lilah girl.

The girl with tightly curled golden brown hair that was sitting next to Lilah went next. "I am Mallory Edgecombe, I am a fifth year Slytherin also, I am the _understudy _for Bombalurina, and I love horses."

A really, really tiny girl (even tinier than Charli, if you can believe that) went next. "I'm Margaret Kingfish-er, I go by Maggie, I'm a first year Ravenclaw, I play Jemima, and I _love_ to read."

Then there was a medium-sized boy with midnight-black hair. "I'm Benjamin Leen, I go by Benny, I'm a fourth year Hufflepuff, I play Mr. Mistoffelees, and I hope to join the Ministry."

Next was a tall girl with short wavy blond hair. "I'm Elizabeth Mallow, I go by Liz, I'm a third year Gryffindor, I play Victoria, and I..." She paused. "I think chickens are cool." Charli, Fred, and I exchanged looks again, but this time we immediately liked Liz.

Next went the girl next to Fred. She had brown hair in a ponytail. "I'm Hailey Bubble, I'm a fifth year Slytherin, I'm the understudy for Rumpleteazer, and Zonko's Joke Shop is my favourite place." We _immediately _liked her.

Then came Fred. "I'm Fred Weasley, I'm a second year Gryffindor, I play Mungojerrie, and I looooove Every Flavour Beans."

My turn. "I'm Johanna Potter (I rolled my eyes as everyone turned to stare at me), I'm a second year Gryffindor also, I play Rumpleteazer, and..." Like Liz, I paused, trying to think of something to say. "And I'M NO EARTHLY GOOD!"

Several people laughed, remembering my and Fred's humourous song.

"I'm Charlotte DuCrall, I go by Charli, I'm a second year Slytherin, I'm the understudy for Cassandra, and I really, really love musicals."

The next person to go, after dorky Doug Shankler the third year Hufflepuff, interested me. She had long, superstraight black hair with blue highlights, bright bright _bright _blue eyes with lots of smoky eye shadow, and unnaturally red lips. Oh. Oh dear Godric. That sounded like I was describing...NO! I was NOT describing that idiotic Mary Sue! Her eyes aren't like limpid tears! She never frenched passively with Malfoy! She doesn't wear corsets with lace! She doesn't go to concerts of random Muggle bands! She spells her own name right! Her name doesn't have any random apostrophes in it! Oh wow, I freaked out there for a minute. But Siriusly! I know you all know what I'm talking about here, and if you don't, good! Stay like that! Don't ruin what brain cells you have left! Okay then...um...*awkwardly clears throat* Back to the story, then?

"Bella Hakowitz, fifth year Slytherin, play Cassandra, and I could easily rip every one of you to pieces."

I didn't snort with laughter like Lilah Mitchells, nor did a chill skitter up my spine at her words. I wasn't scared of her. I wasn't scared of anything.

In fact, I rather liked her.

The next rehearsal would be in two days. We would be highlighting our lines and starting to practice them. The director would actually be present.

"You know," I told Fred as we exited the Great Hall/auditorium. "I'm actually starting to get the hang of this musical thing.

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Review or I will EAT YOU.

RandomFandom: Hey, you _just _got your asking-for-reviews privileges back, and now you're abusing them again? You're pushing your luck, kid.

Johanna: Kid? _Kid? _I'M OLDER THAN YOU!

RadnomFandom: Whatever, I'm doing the AN this chapter! *turns to audience* I wont updat untel I get fiv godd reviows! Sorry, I know I've done that before, it's just that there was already a My Immortal reference in the chapter, so...yeah. Reviews are love.


	4. Of Broomsticks, Songs, And Bad News

Chapter Four: Of Broomsticks, Wacked-Out Songs, And Bad News

There's a little foreshadowing in this chapter. I'm not telling you where, but it's there. RandomFandom doesn't own Harry Potter or Cats. Or a cat, for that matter.

RandomFandom: DARN YOU, MOM'S ALLERGIES!

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"I hate the news."

We looked up to see Charli standing at the Gryffindor table. It was breakfast, the morning after the first rehearsal.

"Why's that?" Lee wanted to know.

Charli plopped down in the seat between me and Angelina. She began to read aloud from the _Prophet._

"There have recently been a surprising amount of

werewolf attacks in the London area. Some investigators have come to the conclusion that a large number of the beasts have banded together to torment defenseless Muggles. One house was investigated and a dead girl was found. Even worse, a boy who appeared to be her brother was found unconscious on the floor next to her with scars on his arm. They were most certainly tooth marks. It seems that the werewolves are adding to their number."

Charli folded the paper with a rustling noise. "See?" she demanded. "That's why I hate the news! They always put the horrible things on the front page and use the good news as filler!"

I agreed with her completely. I hadn't read the paper without asking if it was safe since I was six.

Seven years earlier:

_"TAG! You're it!"_

_ We were chasing each other around the yard, laughing our heads off. _

_ "Kids..."_

_ It was Mrs. Weasley. She had an unusually grave expression on her face. We followed her inside. She sent Ron and Ginny up to their rooms and said there was something she had to tell us. _

_ She read us the newspaper headline._

_ "Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Bellatrix Lestrange_ _And Barty Crouch Jr. Arrested."_

_ We crowded around the newspaper. I began to read in my innocent little six-year-old voice. "Early yesterday morning, Augusta Longbottom informed the Healers at St. Mungo's..."_

Back to present:

The twins and I had heard of the Unforgivables before. But we had heard of the Imperius and Killing Curses, not Cruciatus. We couldn't sleep at all that night. I couldn't get the image of Frank and Alice Longbottom screaming until they went insane out of my head.

That example was the most recent, not the worst. The worst was definitely when I found out that Sirius betrayed our parents (or at least I thought he did...). But I'm not going to do _another _flashback. Wait for the fifth story in my series like a good girl/boy/hippogriff and _then _you'll get your flashback.

When we got to the first class of the day (Trans-figuration), that article didn't leave our minds. I found myself thinking of dead girls and boys with deep scars.

I just hoped nothing happened to my friends.

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"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

I sat up so fast I accidentally leaned over too far and cracked my back. "Ow!"

It was around 2:00 in the morning. My roommates were waking up too. Other than Angelina (who had screamed), I shared a dorm with Alicia Spinnet and Lane Tabott. Alicia was the most normal out of everyone in the room. She had very shiny, shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes. She was just a bit of a drama queen.

Lane, on the other hand, was most likely the least normal out of everyone in the room. She had long straight white-blond hair, blue eyes, a fondness for cur-sing, and a pet duck named Fluffy. She thought she could talk to animals. You know, like Dr. Doolittle. Yes, I do know who Dr. Doolittle is.

Anyway, we were all glaring at Angelina, who was gazing, transfixed, at a spot on the ground by her bed.

"What did you scream for?" demanded Alicia.

"I-I think I..."

"WHAT?!"

"I think I found the...the..."

"The WHAT?!"

"The...the One Ring!"

We stared at her. Then I slowly began to grin, and soon I was literally rolling on the floor laughing. "You... you think you...found...HA HA HA!"

Angelina gave me a very odd look, a mixture of a glare and a confused stare. "You know what the One Ring _is?_"

"Sometimes we tag along with Percy to the library. Anyway, you actually think that the One Ring is going to be lying by your bed?"

"Come look at it!" she implored. I obliged.

"Angelina, that bears _no _resemblance to the One Ring."

"Yes it does!"

"Um, the One Ring was gold. That's blue plastic."

"Blue plastic?" called Lane suddenly from her bed. "Oh, that's mine."

"Why's it by Angelina's bed then?" asked Alicia.

"I just left it there from when I was looking under all the beds for Fluffy. She had escaped." *cricket noises*

"Okay, glad we cleared that up. Angelina, give the ring back to Lane."

"But it rules them all!"

"Okay then. Let's pretend that Lane's bag is Mount Doom. You can be Frodo. I'll be Sam."

"Oh, shut up."

Why did I include this exchange, you ask? Well, I just wanted to tell you about the kind of stuff that I do all the time. I pretended to be a singing and dancing cat. I convinced my roommates that they aren't, in fact, in Lord of the Rings.

In short, my life was nuts.

And it was about to get even more.

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We walked, yet again, onto the stage in the Great Hall. The actors and actresses, instead of being in a scrum in the center, were milling around with scripts.

At the front of the stage was a man with brownish-red hair that was more brownish than red. He was pretty average-looking.

He turned when he saw us. "Oh, hello," he said. "I'm Barry Straw, I'm your director. And you are?"

"Oh, I think you know me," I told him. "I'm Johanna Potter, this is my friend Fred Weasley."

"Oh, Miss Potter, delighted to make your acquaintance!" he said taking my right hand in both of his and shaking vigorously.

We finally got our scripts and began to practice, as the others were doing. The stage was full of snatches of different songs.

"'_Memory, all alone in the moonlight, I can—"_

"'_In the hall of St. James's, the smartest of names is the name of this—"_

"'_If you put me in a house, I would much prefer—"_

We looked around in curiosity, then we looked at each other and started to sing. Our song went a little like this—

Fred: _Mungojerrie—_

Me: _—and Rumpleteazer—_

Both: _We're a notorious couple o' cats_

Me: _As knockabout clowns_

_Quick-change comedians_

_Tightrope walkers_

_And acrobats!_

Fred: _We have an extensive reputation_

_We make our home in Victoria Grove_

_This is merely our center of operation_

Both: _For we are incurably given to rove!_

_When the family assembles for Sunday dinner—_

Me: _—their minds made up that they won't get thinner—_

Fred: _—on Argentine joint—_

Me _—potatoes and greens _

_Then the cook would appear from behind the scenes_

Fred: _And say in a voice that is broken with sorrow_

_I'm afraid you must wait and have dinner tomorrow_

_The joint has gone from the oven like that_

Both: _Then the family'll say, it's that horrible cat!_

Fred: _It was Mungojerrie—_

Me: _—or Rumpleteazer—_

Both: _—and most of the time, they leave it at that!_

_Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer_

_Have a wonderful way of working together_

_And some of the time you would say it was luck_

_And some of the time you would say it was weather_

_We go through the house like a hurricane_

_And no sober person could take his oath_

Fred: _Was it Mungojerrie—_

Me: _—or Rumpleteazer—_

Both: _—or could you have sworn that it might've been both_

_And when you hear a dining room smash_

_Or up from the pantry there comes a loud crash_

_Or down from the library came a loud ping_

_From a vase which was commonly said to be Ming_

_Then the family'll say, now which was which cat?_

Fred: _It was...Mungojerrie!_

Me (indignantly): _And! Rumpleteazer!_

Both: _And there's nothing at all to be done about that!_

We looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Charli was right!" whooped Fred. "We _are _brilliant!"

"Totally!" I agreed. "They're gonna love us!"

We started the rehearsal. We just practiced the first song, "Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats." As I said before, it was catchy but said "jellicle" way too many times.

Here's how _this _little ditty went:

Some grey boy cat called Munkustrap: _Are you blind when you're born?_

Girl cat called Demeter: _Can you see in the dark?_

Boy cat called Skimbleshanks: _Can you look at a king?_

Boy cat called Asparagus: _Would you sit on his throne?_

Boy cat called Rum Tum Tugger: _Can you say of your bite that it's worse than your bark?_

Boy cat called Alonzo: _Are you cock of the walk—_

Girl cat called Jennyanydots: _When you're walking alone?_

All: _Because jellicles are_

_And jellicles do_

_Jellicles do and jellicles would_

_Jellicles would and jellicles can_

_Jellicles can and jellicles do._

Girl cat called Jellylorum: _When you fall on your head, do you land on your feet?_

Boy cat called Coricopat: _Are you tense when you sense there's a storm in the air?_

Maggie (Jemima): _Can you find your way blind when you're lost in the street?_

Old Deuteronomy: _Do you know how to go to the Heaviside Layer?_

All: _Because jellicles can and jellicles do _

_Jellicles do and jellicles can _

_Jellicles can and jellicles do_

_Jellicles do and jellicles can_

_Jellicles can and jellicles do!_

Girl cat called Tantomile: _Can you ride on a broomstick to places far distant_ (a bunch of us stuffed our fists in our mouths to keep from laughing)_?_

A bunch of girl cats: _Familiar with candle—_

Girl cat called Electra: _—with book and with bell?_

Lilah (Bombalurina): _Were you Whittington's friend?_

Benny (Misto): _The Pied Piper's assistant?_

Boy cat called Tumblebrutus: _Have you been an alumnus of heaven and hell?_

(HERE'S OUR LINE!)

Fred: _Are you mean like a minx?_

MEEEEEEEEE: _Are you lean like a lynx?_

Girl cat called Etcetera: _Are you keen to be seen when you're smelling a rat?_

Bella (Cassandra): _Where you there when the pharoahs commissioned the sphinx? _

All: _If you were and you are, you're a jellicle cat!_

_Jellicle songs for jellicle cats_

_Jellicle songs for jellicle cats_

Me: _Why do we have to sing this part over and over _(I actually sang that part)_? _

Director: BECAUSE IT'S IN THE SCRIPT!

That was all of that song that we did for that day. We just practiced Bustopher Jones, which was that really dumb song that came before our song. We didn't even bother to sing along.

When it was finally over, we trudged back to Gryffindor Tower without really wanting to come back down ever again.

Needless to say, we weren't thinking of Quidditch.

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We remembered in the morning. It felt like millions of years until we were running down the sunny green grounds to the pitch, broomsticks slung over our shoulders and wearing scarlet robes. We had waited for this moment all of our lives, you realize. That's why we ran so fast, each trying to get there first. Angelina ended up getting there first. She was closely followed by me, then Alicia, then George. Fred came last, so we laughed at him.

We took our places in the line. Alicia, Angelina, and I were trying out for Chasers, and the twins were trying out for Beaters.

We got a strong sense of deja vu when our names got called. We had to, of course, try to shoot the Quaffle past Ollie (I called Wood that in my head). Angelina and I succeeded easily. Alicia was amazingly good, but somehow not good enough. We just watched from the stands after Angelina and I got picked ("Sorry, Alicia." "Oh, that's okay. I sorta knew I wasn't gonna make it."). We crossed our fingers when the Beater tryouts were held. One kid named John Winsome nearly hit Angelina in the face with a Bludger. Alicia and I tried to run out of the stands and beat him up, but Angie stopped us.

Finally, Fred and George were announced as members of the team! Of course, we celebrated in the best way we knew how: screaming our hyper heads off and jumping around like squirrels on sugar highs.

After that, we stayed and watched the rest of the tryouts. We watched the rejects more than the players. As we watched, we saw Lilah Mitchells flash a wicked grin at her cronies, Mallory Edgecombe and Stacy Holimer, and flounce out of the stands and over to where one of the Beater rejects (a sixth year whose name I don't remember) sat, and whisper something in his ear. He blushed; she giggled and took his hand, pulling him off the pitch and towards the castle. We rolled our eyes at each other. We surmised that they would find a suitable broom closet in a few moments.

Of course we celebrated when we got back to the castle. We swiped some food from the kitchens and brought it back to the common room like we did every time we were somehow victorious. Angelina looked like a chipmunk with her face stuffed with cream puffs. The twins got high on chocolate eclairs and started laughing like maniacs. I somehow got a bottle of butterbeer overturned on my head (I kind of went berserk after that, grabbing a bunch of butterbeer and spraying it everywhere). Lane inexplicably started doing the cha-cha slide. To this day, Alicia calls herself our "designated driver."

Parties are awesometastic.

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Like? Not like? Tell us in a review!

RandomFandom: There. See? It's not that hard to do it without threatening people.


	5. In Which Charli Is Not In The Best Mood

Chapter Five: In Which Charli Is Not In The Best Of Moods

Hey everyone, Johanna here with the update. RaFa would like to tell everyone she doesn't own Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, or her summer camps, which is where she got inspiration for the list of things we needed to work on in the play and that horrid circle game. *under her breath* Wow, a preteen American girl doesn't own those things? I'm so shocked.

RandomFandom: *gives the stinkeye* As your creator, I have the ability to do horrible things to you...

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This chapter will be About The Play. Like, completely. I'm just warning you, it might get a little boring, but hey, it's my life here. There can't be exciting parts 24/7.

Anyway, that day was the day we practiced and talked about what we needed to work on. This part will be funny. I guarantee it. There were some pretty absurd ones. Like this one—

"Liz, what was that thing you started doing in 'The Invitation To The Jellicle Ball' when you were supposed to be singing with Benny?"

Liz blushed deeply. "Um...a cheerleading chant?"

"_Liz..._"

"I'm sorry, okay! I forgot the tune to the song!"

"How could you forget the tune?! _It was playing right there at the time, Liz!_"

"I don't know, I just did!"

Straw just sighed and turned to us. "Fred, Johanna—_stop trying to do Cockney accents!_"

"But they did them in the movie!" argued Fred.

"That was because they actually _had _them in the movie! You two just can't do them, even less so for you, Johanna, you have a lisp!"

Everyone other than Fred (there's a reason Charli is a Slytherin) sniggered at the mention of my lisp. I gave them my best death glare, which made them laugh even more (I swear, Charli sounds like a hyena when she laughs hard enough). I didn't have the best death glare when I was thirteen.

Straw just moved on. "Bella, stop flirting with me during songs. In fact, stop flirting with me altogether."

Bella pasted on an innocent look. "Why would you think I'm flirting with you? I've never even considered you remotely attractive."

Hailey snorted. "Then what do you call _this?_" She lowered her eyelids and smirked seductively, then swung her head to the side and batted her eyelashes in perfect imitation of Bella. Bella scowled.

Straw pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Okay," he said wearily. "Maggie, _enunciate._ You keep slurring for some reason. It sounds like you're saying 'kahfinerwahblynwehyurlossind asree.' It's, 'can you find your way blind when you're lost in the street.'"

"Can you find your way blind when you're lost in the street," repeated Maggie. "Got it."

"Alright then, rehearsal dismissed!" We all started rushing for our dorms. We leapt off the stage and crashed into the orchestra pit like we always did. I always got a kind of rush from that. It was scary for the split second when I was preparing to jump, but then I was falling and it didn't matter. I still landed hard on top of the tuba or cello or something like that. And not even I, the Girl Who Lived, could do anything about it. Wow, I get all philosophical and junk over the weirdest things.

I stood up and ran my hand through my hair for the umpteenth time since two days ago, when I decided to cut it short. It felt so odd having empty air where there was usually a braid (or if not a braid, a loose ponytail that I hurriedly gathered my hair into when I was gonna be late for class/Quidditch/rehearsal). Instead of my elbow-length, dark-red bird's nest, it was a neat little pixie cut (after I found out it was called that, I kept telling people that I was a Cornish pixie) that went to just above that one joint in the back of your neck, close to your shoulders. You know which one I mean. Wow, no wonder I'm not a Ravenclaw. I don't know what that joint is called, _and _I just rambled on for a paragraph about my _hair. _Ugh. Sorry 'bout that.

When I got back up to the dorm, I relayed the entire rehearsal to Angelina and Alicia ("The other kidth laughed at me becauthe of my lithp...lithp. Liiiithp. Litttthhhhp. WHOTHE CRUEL IDEA WATH IT TO PUT AN S IN LITHP?!"). Lane wasn't really listening. I think she was contemplating what name to call that one Ravenclaw she hates for some reason next. I think she's even weirder than me (and trust me, _that _is saying something).

I flopped down on my back across the bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering what the heck I got myself into when I decided to audition.

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"OUCH! Your elbow is digging into my stomach!"

"Well, I have to get under Maggie's arm somehow!"

"Yeah, if anything it's _Maggie's _fault for being so small!"

"HEY! Again with the size jokes!"

"_Ohhhhhh, _of course it's _your _duty to defend fellow hobbits, eh Char?"

"I'm not a hobbit! And _don't call me Char!_"

"Wow, she's touchy about her name..."

"You think _that's _bad, you should see what she does if you call her _Charlotte._"

We were doing that game where you each had to grab two people's hands and try to get back in a circle again. As you can see, we were concentrating far harder on arguing than actually doing what we were supposed to. Not that we found anything wrong with that.

Princess Slytherin (I honestly don't know why she's denying being a hobbit. I mean, she obviously is one), meanwhile, was still raging at us, saying several words that no twelve-year-old should in the process. Feisty one, that Charli-Char (she's gonna kill me when she reads that...). I don't think anyone really remembered that we still had Maggie in a strangle-hold until she spoke up irritably about it. We hastened to change positions, which started another round of sniping. I got the feeling it really got on Charli's nerves (that's why I got into it as much as possible).

We somehow got into a circle after something close to an hour and a half. We were wearily sent back to our dorms by Straw. I think he got a little more than he bargained for with us. But hey, that's what you get for rounding up a bunch of teenagers and telling them to put on a musical in their off-key voices.

Charli was still grousing when we left. "_I _wanted to do West Side Story, but _no_, it was too _mature _and they didn't want us to get any _ideas_...they didn't get mad when _you _two did a song from it..." We, of course, were not listening and obliviously warbling "Mr. Mistoffelees."

"_Oh, well I never, was there ev-ah, a cat so cuh-lever as magical Mr. Mis-toff-e-lees!_"

"LISTEN TO ME!"

"_His manner is vague and aloof, and you would think there was nobody shy-ah—_"

"STOP SINGING!"

"_But his voice can be heard on the roof when he was curled up by the fiy-ah—_"

"_SHUT UP_!"

"_And he's sometimes been heard by the fire while he was about on the roof, at least we all heard that _somebody_ purred which is incantestable proof..." _

"**_IF ALL OF YOU DON'T JUST SHUT THE **** UP THEN I WILL PERSONALLY BEAT THE LIVING **** OUT OF BOTH OF YOU AND THEN RIP YOUR ORGANS OUT AND FEED THEM TO THOSE ****ING WEREWOLVES!_**"

We thought it would be an _extremely _good idea to run. Very, very fast.

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Normal people would have tried not to get on that demented hobbit's bad side for at least two days.

You should know by now that we aren't normal people.

We insisted on bothering her as much as we could. We pranked the Slimerins, ignored her, made several more hobbit jokes, and...was that it? That wasn't it...

Ah, yes. The Invisible Charli.

It wasn't the same as just ignoring everything she said; it was ignoring her existence altogether. We basically just pretended she didn't exist or wasn't there all the time. Like at rehearsal, we would ask loudly "I wonder where Charli is...?" and scratch our heads exaggeratedly. When she snapped that she was right there and made one of her signature withering sarcastic quips, we would just continue. Several people were sent to the hospital wing for that, but we kept going. I guess we just have that Gryffindor brave-to-the-point-of-stupidity thing. Anyway, we just did things like that and tried really hard not to cry out in pain when she pounded us.

But then came the day when we were at rehearsal and Straw did roll call. The joke was sort of over by that point. But apparently Willie Iserfield didn't get the message. To this day I have no clue how that girl got into Ravenclaw. When "Charlotte DuCrall" got called, she leaped up from where she was sitting in the back, tore across the stage, and tackled Charli. Willie seized the poor little hobbit around the neck, clamped a hand over her mouth, and smashed her face into the floor. "SHE'S NOT HERE!" she shrieked. Both girls-with-boys'-names unded up in the hospital wing (the stage floor and Charli's fists/wand were very capable of breaking faces). They got in H-U-G-E _huge _trouble. I don't understand why Charli got in trouble. She just defended herself against a crazed fourth year.

What was the point of that story, you ask? Well, I'm glad you asked.

Never get on a Slytherin's bad side.

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Johanna: Review...

RandomFandom: Say it. It's one word. It's not that hard. Millions of people say it every day.

Johanna: No.

RandomFandom: It's not a bad word. Parents teach their children to say it.

Johanna: FINE! Review, _please. _There! I said it! Happy?

RandomFandom: *smirks* Very.


	6. In Which Things Go From Okay To Bad

Chapter Six: In Which Things Go From Okay To Bad

Johanna: Hai. I know this chapter is kinda weird, and the vampire thing didn't serve any purpose whatsoever, but at least one part will be relevant later. You'll see why, definitely.

RandomFandom: Yeah, one part will come up in Chapter Ten.

Johanna: Hey, you didn't have to interrupt me, I was gonna say that!

RandomFandom: Yeah well, I said it first.

Johanna: *glares* The sentence-interrupting jerk over there doesn't own Harry Potter or Cats. Bai.

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Okay. You know how I warned you last chapter that things might get boring?

Well, in this chapter, things might get ugly.

First of all, we started practicing dancing. Of course _that _went extremely well. I think Liz took the most hits from that particular aspect of actressdom. She had to bend so unnaturally that at one point Straw decided that doing a spell to make the bones in one of her legs go away would be a good idea (I heard Madam Pomfrey screaming at him after rehearsal through Liz's Skelegro-induced moans of pain). I swear, that guy was Lockhart on Polyjuice.

At the end of our song, Fred had to grab me around the waist from behind, and we would do this joined-together cartwheel. It was very, very, _very _hard. We went careening off the stage several times. The worst part was, we got in _trouble _because of it. Stupid Straw.

Another thing was, Charli and Amanda (remember her? Charli's only Slytherin friend?) had a huge row because Amanda's slimy friends were making fun of Charli, and Amanda just laughed along. They weren't speaking, and it was taking its toll on Charli. The normally tough-as-nails, icy-cool girl seemed on the verge of tears 24/7. She almost _never _cries, except for when somebody dies or something like that. From what I'd heard, Amanda might have even called Charli a you-know-what. Lucky for them, it didn't turn out like—SPOILER ALERT!—Snape and my mother.

Lilah Mitchells and her cronies weren't of any help. "So," she sneered. "Your girlfriend broke up with you, eh?"

"Leave her alone!" Fred and I yelled in unison. We knew something was _seriously _wrong then. The only times we'd ever tried defending Charli, both we and the person who'd insulted her would get beaten up, demonstrating that she was perfectly capable of defending herself. But this time, she just glared at us from her corner of the stage. Granted, her death glares were better than mine, but _just a glare? _From _Charli? _Not even a sarcastic comment?

"Oooooooh, does widdle-biddle bay-bay DuCrall need help fwum da _Gwyffindors?_" crooned Lilah in a manner that I would many years later compare to Bellatrix Lestrange. Well, at least that got a rise out of Charli. I guess acting takes away her cool, for whatever reason. Either way, Fred and I were very, very relieved.

That is, until the vampire incident.

Oh, I know what you're thinking—there wasn't _actually_ a vampire involved. Everyone just _thought_ there was.

Let me explain: Lilah was a sworn enemy of Bella Hakowitz and Hailey Bubble. So, she decided to tell people that Bella was a vampire. What did this have to do with us, you ask? Well, we (Fred, Charli and I) just rolled our eyes and scoffed at this. Lilah rounded on us and "revealed" that we were vampires too. We protested that that didn't make any sense, but somehow everyone believed Lilah.

So, in short, our lives basically sucked. But hey, we lived through it. One of the weird things about us is, we thrive on bad situations.

When times were at their worst, we were at our best.

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You're probably wondering what the Hufflepuff George, Angelina, and Lee were up to. Well, dearest darlingest reader, they weren't exactly having the time of their lives either. Quidditch was pretty rough for them. They were being sent to the hospital wing even more than we were. I guess that's what you get for being friends with a Potter. Anyway, they were getting whacked with every single ball on the pitch. The Snitch even decided to plummet at full speed and land on top of Angelina's head. I think Charlie accidentally hit her in the face with his elbow trying to get the Snitch.

So, my point is, every single thing about all of our lives stunk like a rotten flobberworm. But I _still _haven't gotten to the worst part. What's the worst part, you ask?

I was starting to think I had a crush on Fred.

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I know, that cliffhanger doesn't sound like much, but it'll be important, I promise.

RandomFandom: Yeah, it will. It will all be explained next chapter. You all can stop _freaking out_. Sheesh.

Johanna: *eyes RandomFandom suspiciously* You're a freak.

RandomFandom: You're mean and a hypocrite. We both have some room for improvement. *turns to audience* Review. It'll make the mean hypocrite happy.

Johanna: Review. It'll make the freak happy.

Both: *glare*

Charli: *has been standing there awkwardly the whole time* Just review, okay?


	7. Of Good Advice And Bad Decisions

Chapter Seven: Of Good Advice And Bad Decisions

Hiya. I know this chapter is a bit unnecessary, and it's sort of filler, but this will be vaguely important over the course of the series. It'll be a little mini-sideplot-thing, at least until Book Six. So...um...*clears throat* don't own, don't sue?

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Well, your minds are probably still reeling from that shocking revelation. Note the sarcasm. But anyway, you're probably waiting for an explanation. So, here goes.

Fred and I had been in the play for a long while, and we had started getting involved in conversations with thespians like Charli. So one day, Charli and Liz were having a debate about the relationship between Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, and we thought that since those were our characters, we should give our opinion. Charli thought that Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were twins, and Liz thought they were boyfriend and girlfriend. I started pondering this question, one thing led to another, and soon I was wondering, _what if Fred and I were boyfriend and girlfriend? _I woke up the next morning with a crush on him. It was that simple.

Still, I acted like everything was normal. I pretended it didn't tingle weirdly whenever Fred touched me and that I didn't suddenly notice that he smelled good. Not only was it stupid and weird to have a huge crush on one of your very very _very _best friends, I had more important things to worry about, like homework and the play and Quidditch.

When I asked Charli if she thought I was going crazy (well, crazi_er_), she said, "We're all going crazier, Anna-Banana."

I was the one to wallop her for a change.

She did give me some pretty good advice, though. She said that I needed to try to push this crush-thing out of my mind if I wanted to avoid any awkwardness and not get distracted from what actually mattered.

"And besides," she continued. "If you just play it cool, then maybe, just _maybe_, something will happen between you two someday."

"Yeah," I echoed. "Maybe someday..."

"If you play it cool." Charli's face split into a grin and she started singing softly. "_Just play it cool, boy, real cool..._"

I left at high speed before she could force me to sing and, Merlin forbid, _dance _with her.

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The next few weeks passed quickly enough. They were a blur of rehearsals, Quidditch, and piles of homework. I just couldn't get that dumb crush out of my head. My train of thought went a bit like this: _Merlin's chest hair, I'm late for Transfiguration! I sit next to Fred in Transfiguration...no, no, no! Stop thinking about him! Almost to Transfiguration! I wonder if I did the homework. Maybe I can copy someone's. Maybe I can copy Fred's. NO! Snap out of it! You're better than this! No I'm not. Yes you are! Cut it out! Stop standing outside the door to the classroom, you imbecile, Professor McGonagall will see you! And...wait a minute, am I talking out loud? _MERLIN'S ICE CREAM SCOOP! _Oh crud, I said that out loud too...everyone'll think I'm nuts. Ah well, they already know that._

Anyway, my thought pattern was basically that, but with a lot more mentions of well, at least I wasn't stalking him. Although that may have been because he was my best friend and therefore I didn't need to stalk him. Besides, I already knew everything about him. I'm starting to sound creepy, aren't I? I'll stop now.

I'm not really looking forward to telling this part of the story. I really, really, really need to, or else several happenings in his series won't make much sense. Well, here goes.

I made a very, very, very, very, very bad decision. Well, it was kind of all of us that made the decision.

You know us. We're all about breaking rules. It's practically the reason we live. It _is _the reason we live. But this time, we suffered real consequences. Not just a measly detention or dozen. We saw the reason why our actions were so stupid. What were our actions, you ask?

We sneaked out, in the middle of the night, and forgot the map.

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Yeah, yeah. The chapter sucked, I know. Flame all you want, it'll boost our review count.

RandomFandom: *whispering to readers* Sorry about the snappishness. She's been in a weird mood all day. I think this chapter is depressing her. So...bye then. Go on! Review!


	8. In Which I Suffer The Consequences

Chapter Eight: In Which I Suffer The Consequences

Johanna: Hola, amigos. RaFa doesn't own Harry Potter or the phrase "it was a dark and stormy night."

RandomFandom: Why does this not depress you as much as the last chapter?

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It was not a dark and stormy Halloween night. It was actually a Halloween night, but it was rather peaceful, with only a few clouds drifting along through the darkened sky. We were experts at sneaking around, so we got down onto the grounds easily enough. We were free to be as crazy as we wanted without being given weird looks by anyone. We were having the time of our lives.

That is, we were, until...

Angelina looked up. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked Lee.

"A noise."

"No kidding! Why, I thought you were speaking of the sound of the beautiful silence!"

"Put a sock in it, Charli. Anyway, it was like a footstep, only...um...lighter, maybe? I don't know, it was like—OH! There it is again!"

That time, we all heard it. Like a kind of shuffle near the Forbidden Forest. Of course, we were all terrified out of our puny minds. In fact, we were _so _terrified that we forgot to run like the crazy people we were.

We stood there, breathing hard, staring at the place where the noise had come from, not moving a muscle.

Until something leaped out at us and we scattered.

I lost track of where my friends were. I lost track of where _I _was. Heck, I even forgot my own name. All I had in my head was, _Run-run-run-run-gonna-get-eaten-gonna-die-if-I-don't-run-really-fast!_

The world was a blur as I zoomed as fast as I possibly could away from this beast. I didn't even notice that my friends were running towards the door, and they didn't even notice that I wasn't with them. I heard Charli's voice shriek, "_JOHANNA!_" I turned around instinctively and found myself staring directly into the foot-long fangs of that thing. I took one step back, it took one step forward. I stepped back a few more times, then realized that it had me against a wall.

_Well_, I thought. _This is it. I'm gonna die like a Gryffindor: in an act of total stupidity. It's a shame that my baby brother will never get to see me again. It'll sure be cool to see Mum and Dad again, though. Well, here it comes..._

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the death bite, but just as I turned my head, I saw the moon over the thing's shoulder and for the split, split, split, _split_ second that I was still conscious, I knew exactly what was going to kill me, and what would happen if I survived, before—

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I woke up in the hospital wing with no memory of my split-second revelation. I looked around, and my first thought was, _I'm alive! SCORE! _My second thought was, _OH DEAR SWEET MOTHER OF MERLIN OW. _For the pain in my shoulder was completely unbearable.

I saw my friends, Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall, and Dumbledore. I vaguely registered that everyone but the twins and Charli were standing a few steps back from my bed.

McGonagall spoke first. "Now that you are awake, I have to say that you broke a very important school rule, and for that you have lost 25 points each for Gryffindor—and Slytherin," she added, nodding at Charli, who bowed. "I would have taken more, but under the circumstances...well, you can tell Miss Potter what happened."

Fred began. "Well...um...well, you remember how that thing chased you and attacked you?"

"How in the world would I forget that?" I wanted to know.

George shrugged. "Beats me. Anyway, that thing bit you, and...well..." He looked at Charli.

"Why do _I_ have to tell this part?" she demanded indignantly.

"You're the only Slimerin here, now _tell her!_"

"Okay, okay, sheesh...well, Johanna, we found out what that thing was."

"And? What was it?" I asked impatiently.

"Johanna, it was a werewolf."

I sat there blankly for a minute before replying. "But...it bit me."

The others nodded grimly.

"So...that means..." I looked up and said the three words that I never thought I would say and have them be true.

"I'm a werewolf."

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Dun, dun, DUNNNNNNNNNN! Huh? Huh? Didja see that coming? Huh? Didja didja didja?

RandomFandom: Well, I was being kinda obvious about it, what with the title of this story, and the stupid news story. *shakes head* Why I wrote that, I have no clue. Well, review please!

Johanna: *indignantly* Hey! I get to ask for reviews!

RandomFandom: Yeah, yeah, yeah.


	9. In Which I Get A Whole Lot Furrier

Chapter Nine: In Which I Get A Whole Lot Furrier

RandomFandom: Happy holidays! I got a new iPad for Christmas that I am updating this on! WOOT WOOT! Now, on to the story! Take it away, Johanna!

Johanna: *mock-salutes* Yes ma'am. *turns to audience* Okay, so I know you're all reeling from the shock of the last installment. Note the sarcasm. Anyway, I know how badly-written the scene with me screaming at everyone was—

RandomFandom: Hey! I knew that, but you don't have to say it right in front of me!

Johanna: As I was _saying_...*glares at RandomFandom* I know it's badly-written, but hey, that's how you know it's RaFa's! Harry Potter isn't badly-written, so she must not own it! *smiles very sweetly and flees from her raging authoress*

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I know what you're thinking. No, I didn't cry. I just sat there looking like a wide-mouthed fish for about five minutes. Then I said, "Well, the _Prophet_'ll have a field day over this one."

At this, Angelina did burst into tears. She wailed incoherently and started hugging me very, very tightly.

"Um," I said uncertainly. "There, there?" A half-grin came over my face. "I'm sure that normally in this situation, _I'm _not the one comforting _you_, but since when have we ever been normal?"

Angelina choked out a laugh at that. "How can you be making jokes when...oh, _Johanna!_" She broke out in a fresh wave of tears.

"Well, she's making jokes because she has to. If she didn't, she would be crying ten times harder than you," explained George. I glared at him.

"Stop reading my mind, Weasley." The twins smirked at this.

"No, I'm serious. You don't wanna get on the bad side of a..." I paused.. "...of a _werewolf._"

It came spiraling down and slammed into me again. "I'm a werewolf," I said again. To my horror, I felt a prickling sensation in the backs of my eyes. _No, _I told myself sternly. _Don't you dare cry. If you cry, they'll know how terrified you really are. That'll just scare them more. _I took a deep breath. "It's okay," I said, talking more to myself than anyone in the room. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Really."

"How do you know we're worried about you and not the werewolf that bit you?" teased Fred weakly. "You haven't showered in three days. You probably tasted bad." I smiled just as weakly.

I opened my mouth to say something else, but no words came out. It was then that I remembered the adults in the room. I glanced awkwardly at them. "Er..."

Dumbledore got the message. "Come on," he said to McGonagall and Pomfrey. "Miss Potter needs some time alone with her friends."

When they were safely out of the room, I turned to my friends. Words tumbled out of my mouth without my brain's consent.

"I love you. All of you. I couldn't ever ask for better friends. Well, maybe I could, but I probably couldn't. You don't seem to hate me, as the rest of Hogwarts probably will. You're not that scared of me. You know I'm still me." I paused, looking nervously at them. "Don't you?"

"Of course we do, idiot," replied Charli. "Geez, you Gryffindorks are even stupider than I thought."

"'Stupider' isn't even a word," Angelina informed her. Lee looked surprised.

"It _isn't?_" We all laughed at that.

"But seriously," I continued. "You guys do know that this—" I indicated the wound on my shoulder. "—defines me about as much as this—" I indicated the lightning scar on my neck. "—right?"

"Of _course_," Charli repeated. "We don't care."

Angelina and Lee exchanged glances. Charli glared at them.

"Sorry, Anna," said Lee, truly sounding sorry.

"It's just that..." Angelina trailed off. "Well, now that you're..."

"You're not exactly..."

"Human?" I suggested flatly. They looked deeply ashamed. "No, no, no, it's okay," I continued, my voice growing bitter. "I know that when they whisper about me in the hallways, they're sort of whispering about you too. I know that it'll make you look bad to be friends with me." They opened their mouths, but I plowed on. "But do _you _know? Huh? Do _you_ know how it feels to have every single eye on you 24 hours a day? Do _you_ know how it feels to have everyone judge you because of a stupid scar? Do _you_ know how it feels to nearly die at least once a day? Do _you_ know how it feels not to know what your own brother looks like? Do _you_ know how it feels to have a chunk of your shoulder ripped out?_ Do you know how it will feel to be a werewolf?_"

I was nearly shouting by then. My friends were staring at me quite apprehensively.

"Well, I do. I'm gonna keep having to go through things for the rest of my life. And if you wanna stop being friends with me for it, GO AHEAD! I DON'T CARE! BUT YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO BE ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO IS SCARED OF SOMETHING THAT BARELY AFFECTS ME OR ANYONE!"

They looked near tears. Heck, _I_ was near tears and had been since long before I flipped my lid. But I kept going.

"BUT YOU WANNA KNOW THE WORST PART? _YOU'LL HAVE TO KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO BE REJECTED BY ONE OF YOUR BEST FRIENDS TOO!_"

That was what did it. I burst out sobbing hysterically. My friends let out breaths they had been holding since I went into caps lock. They didn't rush to comfort me, of course. I wouldn't console somebody that had been screaming like a banshee at me. I spluttered out an apology through my tears.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I just th-th-thought you were scared of m-me! That was just so horrib-b-ble that I got so ma-ad and sad and I-I-I took it out on you! I kn-know that you didn't s-s-s-say that you didn't want to be fr-friends with me anymore, I j-just—" I couldn't go on any further, and I don't even think the understood what I did manage to say.

From your own ample background knowledge of the series in which my li'l bro is the protagonist, you can probably tell that my behaviour was quite similar to that of said li'l bro. In the book chronicling my seventh year and his fifth, to be precise. Like brother, like sister, eh?

Especially then. I hadn't gotten a chance to digest the fact that I was a werewolf before my friends acted differently toward me because of it. It really hurt, because I thought we would be together forever, through thick and thin. We were, but the fact that that even showed a sign of changing stung.

I was jolted out of my wracking sobs as a sharp pain ripped through my shoulder where the werewolf had bitten it.

I guess it hurt just as much on the outside as it did on the inside.

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I stayed in the hospital wing for almost a month. Madam Pomfrey dumped all kinds of potions and salves on my wound, but the pesky thing kept reopening. It only bled a tiny bit, though, and that was a good sign.

My friends gave me chocolate and Every Flavor Beans and things like that, as was the custom at Hogwarts. I really, really like chocolate. I don't know if it's a werewolf thing or what, but so did Professor Lupin. But you'll have to wait like a good boy/girl/puppy for the fifth story in this series to hear more on him.

Anyway, I basically scarfed chocolate, lazed in bed, kept forgetting about my shoulder and trying to move my right arm, and grew back into my old mischievous, flippant, sarcastic self.

That is, until That Night.

You know the one I'm talking about. The night that's inevitable for all new werewolves. The night that's the reason everyone is terrified and hateful of them.

Yup. I'm talking about my first transformation.

It fell on a Wednesday. Everyone was still at dinner when Madam Pomfrey led me out to the Whomping Willow.

"What does the Willow have to do with my thing that I have to do?" I demanded (I was still a bit too nervous to say "transformation," especially when it was about to happen for the first time).

"You'll see," replied Madam Pomfrey cryptically (I like that word. It sounds cool). She Wingardium Leviosa'd a branch from the ground and lifted it over to the base of the tree, where it poked at a knot on one of the roots and the tree froze mid-swing. It looked like something out of a drawing or Muggle picture. I lifted my hands and made a frame around the tree with my thumbs and index fingers. I then remembered where I was and yanked my head out of the clouds.

"What you need to do," Pomfrey informed me. "Is go down that hole right there, and follow the tunnel to the stairs and into the Shack."

"Shack?" I repeated confusedly.

"Shrieking Shack," she explained. "It's not really haunted, we just told everyone that because there was another werewolf several years ago, and we had to explain the screaming and howling." Strangely enough, the phrase, "screaming and howling" didn't make me feel any less nervous.

I didn't ask why she wasn't going to go with me. I knew perfectly well that she was scared of me.

It's funny—if you had told me last year, or even a month ago, that several people, including my own friends, would be terrified of me, I would have said that they were absolutely right to be so. The twins would have been doubled over with laughter at the thought of me being scary. Angelina and Lee would have scoffed and said, "As _if._" Charli would have said something Slytherin-ish like, "Freckle-faced, idiotic Gryffindork with a lisp that's only about a head taller than me. Yeah, I'm _terrified._"

But now, everyone was walking on eggshells around me (Charli and the twins don't count because the twins have been my best friends since we were three and Charli...well, she doesn't even march to the beat of her own drum, she skips to a xylophone or something). And it was all because of a lousy little nip (okay, fine, I got a chunk ripped out of my shoulder) and something similar to what every girl is gonna have to go through sometime. Yes, I'm comparing being a werewolf to that. Deal with it.

Oh, sorry, I got sidetracked. So anyway, I slid down into the creepy dark tunnel to a place that everyone said was haunted without a second thought. _Must be the Gryffindor courage kicking in_, I thought. I wandered down through the tunnel for a good long while, before coming to a little set of stairs. I climbed them and voila! there I was in the Shrieking Shack. I noted that I would have to undress unless I wanted my clothes torn to shreds. Not that I really cared about the fate of my old Weird Sisters t-shirt and already-ripped jeans, but I had to wear something on the way back in the morning.

And so I sat back and waited.

It's not a very pleasant thing, waiting. Especially if it's for something you're dreading. The clock seems to go both faster and slower, and you can't decide whether you want it to slow down so you can put it off, or speed up so you can get it over with. So I was stuck alternating between thoughts of _No! Stop! IdontwannaIdontwannaIdontwan na! _and_ Come on, moon, just come out and turn me into a monster already!_

All these thoughts and more were racing through my head as I bit my lip and peered out the window. No moon yet. I sat back and let out a breath. I wondered vaguely what my friends were doing right then. I thought of how much this was going to hurt...

And then the clouds pulled apart.

Silvery light hit me like a fist and my body went stiff. I started shaking hard. I gasped for breath as I fell over and twisted helplessly on the dusty floor. Fur sprouted from my skin and my fingernails sharpened into claws. My bones snapped and bent. My face morphed from the pointy, freckled thing it had been into a long, slobbering, terrifying wolf.

My last human thought was _I bet I look good as a wolf_ and then all I thought was how much I wanted the feeling of flesh tearing beneath my fangs and blood spattering over my claws.

_Kill...eat...kill...eat..._

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I didn't remember falling asleep, although that may have been because I didn't really remember much of anything. I blearily opened my eyes to painfully bright sunlight and pain in general. I was extremely embarrassed when I realized that Madam Pomfrey was there and I didn't have any clothes on. I flushed and glanced around for where I had put my clothes. Madam Pomfrey seemed to recognize my embarrassment and looked away until I was dressed.

After we had gone inside and Mme. Pomfrey gave me my healing potion, she said I was free to go. As I was leaving, I paused, turned around, and peered into the mirror. I looked the same as I ever had. Untidy dark-red hair (the only difference was that it was short). Round hazel eyes with yellow flecks. One hundred and six freckles (I had counted them once for some reason) splotched all over a small, pointed face. Tiny little nose. Stick-outy ears. Bony arms and legs (splashed with fresh bruises from last night). Determinedly flat chest (oh come on, I was thir-freaking-teen!). Royal blue Converse trainers, untied as always. Thin red lightning-bolt scar at the base of my neck (which everyone seemed to think was my defining feature).

And yet everyone was treating me as if I was a different person. I knew why, I just wondered why.

Why should I be different just because I'm different?

I turned and walked away without looking back.

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Johanna: TA-DAAAAAAAHHHHH! Transformation chaptah! I think the transformation scene was actually sorta well-written, don't you? Why don't you tell us in a review? *turns to glare at RandomFandom* There. I said something that had no death threats or lies. Are ya _happy?_

RandomFandom: Wouldn't you be?

P.S. Some of you may remember that the last paragraph or so from the sneak peek in the epilogue last book. RaFa changed a few words and added some. Just letting you know of that extremely important fact. Again, note the sarcasm. Toodle-oo.

P.P.S. Review.


	10. In Which The Situation Isn't Pretty

Chapter Ten: In Which The Situation Isn't Pretty

Johanna: Okay. Before I do the disclaimer, I have to warn you. This chapter is probably one of the most emotional that will be written in this series, especially the last scene. So you might want to make sure that some tissues are nearby. Proceed with caution. RaFa owns nothing. Continue.

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Thunder crashed like some giant bloke in the sky was playing the snare drums and lightning flashed like another giant bloke in the sky was going, "_Lumos_, _Nox_, _Lumos_, _Nox_, _Lumos_, _Nox_." Rain pounded the window so hard that I thought it was going to break. I watched with my chin in my hand as the silhouette of the Whomping Willow flailed around, trying to fend off the rain.

"You okay?"

I didn't need to turn around to know that it was one of the twins that had spoken. I did, however, have to turn around to tell that it was Fred. I mean, I can tell them apart, but by _voice?_That's just impossible.

"Yeah. I guess," I replied.

"It's Cindasus, isn't it?"

I looked down at my trainers. "Maybe," I muttered.

There are two extra facts you need to know for this scene. One—Professor Cindasus was our DADA teacher (Professor Pip had gotten sacked because she had been in a relationship with some seventh year). Two—I had decided not to keep it a secret that I was a werewolf. It's not like I was standing on the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, and screaming "I'M A WEREWOLF" but I wasn't being secretive about it. Although, I might as well have, because when Lee poked me with a silver fork at lunch one day, I started screaming at him, and I wasn't at _all _secretive about it then.

So that's why Cindasus was torturing me even worse than Snape in his classes. He was the second-worst DADA teacher there has ever been (third-worst is Lockhart, fourth-worst is Quirrell, third-best is Moody, second-best is Pip, first-best is Lupin, and I think we all know who first-worst is). He wasn't even subtle about the fact that he was directing his hate at me, like Snape was. He just yammered on about how horrible werewolves were and how if there were no werewolves, almost all the problems in the wizarding world could be fixed. Several Slimerins pointed and sniggered. Ralph Venist really shouldn't've done that, though, because he was sitting next to a certain hobbit. I bet his entire right side was black and blue for the rest of the day.

Anyway, that was why I was so depressed at that particular moment in time. But hey, I'm about to tell you some of the good news.

Fred's mouth turned up in a smile. "Well, then you'll be very glad to hear that we've found a potion that gives the recipient awful boils. Nobody really knows if it works." His smile grew bigger and more mischievous. "Want to test it?"

I grinned right back at him. "What do _you_ think, pea-brain?"

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Of course you'll be delighted to know that I didn't have a crush on Fred anymore.

Well, that's not exactly true. It was still there a tiny little bit. But it wasn't a thick, brightly-colored fog anymore, more of a thin mist settling over my thoughts. It still tingled a little when he touched me, and I still wouldn't say no if he asked if I wanted to kiss him. But I didn't daydream about him in class, and his name didn't randomly pop up in my head, and I didn't write "FW" on my notes (like father, like daughter, eh?).

I told all of this to Charli, who smiled and proclaimed very sarcastically, "Well, _that's_ the news of the year! That would make the front page of the _Daily Prophet_, that would!" She got a whack upside the head for that.

Speaking of her, she and Amanda still weren't talking to each other. I got the feeling that they really, really, really, really wanted to be friends again, but they felt like calling a truce would be admitting defeat. Poor them. I saw Charli sending a longing glance from her empty end of the Slytherin table to where Amanda sat with Megan Vincent and Katrina Polindit and all of their slimy compatriots. It's amazing how much she had to deal with back then. She wasn't speaking to her best friend, nobody else but us wanted to speak to her, and she had the play and school stuff.

You're probably wondering what the rest of the good news is. Well, it all started with an orange.

Let me explain: Angelina and Lee and I had been very awkward ever since I got werewolfified (it's a word, I made it up). We were eating breakfast as usual, when Lee and I reached for an orange at the same time. We realized this before either of us actually grabbed the orange, so our hands sort of stopped in midair, then just hovered there before we withdrew them under the table. Then Lee burst out with, "What is _wrong_ with us? We used to be really, really close, but now we can't even reach for an orange without being awkward about it! Can't we just accept that one of us is a werewolf and two of us are kinda freaked out about that? I mean, it's not like we don't like you anymore!"

"Yeah!" interjected Angelina. "We still wanna be friends with you! Even if you're a—" here she paused, because people were staring at us. "—a—a werewolf. We care about you. We just hate that it's you of all people that's had to go through all of this. You, who's already lost your parents and haven't seen your brother since the night they got killed."

"We'll be your friends, no matter what!" said Lee determinedly. "We don't even care that you're a werewolf!"

I couldn't speak for a moment. I got that prickly feeling at the backs of my eyes again, but I didn't cry. Instead, I slowly started grinning like a madwoman and threw myself on top of both of them, hugging them so tight I bet they were struggling to breathe.

"I LOVE YOU GUYS!" I howled. "I'M SO HAPPY YOU DON'T CARE! IF YOU DON'T CARE, NOBODY ELSE IN THE WORLD MATTERS!"

"GROUP HUG!" screeched the twins, and collapsed on top of us. A tiny blur called Charli got up from the Slytherin table and barreled over, burying herself in the pile of crazy kids on the cold stone floor, green and silver in a mass of red and gold. We stayed like that for a while, twisted and tangled together with the whole of Hogwarts watching us.

We were completely unaware of the giant step back we were about to take.

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This day, too, started just like any other day would. It wasn't until we were going up to bed that it happened.

"That's funny," mused Charli. "Amanda's not here." She furrowed her brow. "She was feeling ill this morning. Maybe she's in the hospital wing..."

We just looked at each other, shrugged, and went to bed. Amanda Quail was missing/sick, so what? She was just Charli's ex-best friend. It wasn't our problem.

Oh, how wrong we were.

The next morning, Charli had gone missing too. That was when we started freaking out. We wondered frantically what was wrong with them. So naturally, the first place we checked was the hospital wing. I had a bad feeling even before we opened the door, because I had a werewolf's sense of smell, and the scent that hit my nostrils was horribly sour and informed me that something was Not Right. But we went in anyway.

And the situation wasn't pretty.

There was Charli, rocking back and forth, her face, twice as pale as usual, twisted with terror and anguish. And there was Amanda, lying motionless in the hospital bed, her eyes closed, her hand in Charli's, soft moans escaping her slack mouth.

"_What's wrong with her?_" we demanded, nauseous at the sight before us.

Madam Pomfrey looked at us, the panic in her eyes all too familiar. "She's sick. I don't know what she has, but she's sick. She hasn't been able to say anything since this morning. None of the potions I've tried work."

She cast an anxious glance at the two of them and softened her voice so that only we could hear. "I—I don't know if she'll make it."

Okay, now we were just plain terrified. If Amanda died, Charli probably would too. Not only that, but what kind of awful malady would have you "feeling ill" one day and on death's doorstep the next?

Whatever it was, one thing was for certain: it was definitely our problem.

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The professors wouldn't let Charli stay with Amanda all day. People pointed and stared at her even more than usual because of her swollen, red face and bloodshot eyes. She gave them a very watery version of her signature "you-say-one-word-and-you-die" glare. At least she still had some remnants of her spirit.

The professors did, however, allow her to bunk with the Gryffies for a while, at the very most until Amanda got better. None of us had had any idea that that was possible, but we found out that if a person was given the password, they could hang with their inter-House friends whenever they felt like it. Of course, this wasn't _technically _allowed, but it was one of those things that everyone just let slide.

Anyway, they didn't conjure up a bed or anything, so Charli alternated sharing a bed with me and Angelina. I think she went with me more often than with Angelina, because you might as well put the two people that wake up screaming in a bed together. I didn't mind, because she barely took up any space at all.

Sometimes Charli didn't sleep with either of us. That was when she fell asleep in the hospital wing. She went down there every single chance she had, sometimes just to quickly kiss Amanda's forehead and squeeze her hand before hurrying off to her next class.

She wasn't the only one to go to the hospital wing to visit Amanda. We saw a sixth-year boy with Amanda's strawberry-blond hair who could only be her older brother standing next to her bed sometimes, his head down to hide his tears.

We went down too during free periods sometimes. We only really knew her through Charli, but who wouldn't visit anyone they knew who had a death malady?

One early December night when everyone else was asleep, I slipped out of bed and down to the hospital. It was one of the nights when Charli had fallen asleep by Amanda's bed, and her small dark head lay on Amanda's stomach. The two girls' fingers were interlaced.

I pulled up a chair next to Charli's and sat down in it. "Hey, Amanda," I said. "I don't really know what to say right now. I know you about as well as you know me." I paused. "Well, I guess you know me better than I know you, 'cuz..." I waved a hand towards my lightning scar, even though I knew she couldn't see me; but then again, I was talking to her, so I guess it wasn't that weird.

"Well, I just want you to know that I want you to get better. Really, really soon. It seems like Charli's dying, too. She needs you. And Amanda, I'm pretty sure you need her too. Without her, you're just another Slimerin. I'm sorry, but it's true. And you already were turning into one of them, before you got sick. You were laughing at her, and saying that _word_, and hating people because of things they couldn't help.

"But when you were friends with her, you couldn't hate those people, because you knew one of them, and you loved her. And you got to see what it _did _to her when your stupid little buddies made fun of her.

"She needs you, too. Without you, she didn't have anyone. Well, that's not true. She had us. But it just wasn't the same. We're Gryffindors. Which means she's a Slytherin who hangs out with Gryffindors. We're just another reason for them to laugh at her. But you're not. You're a Slytherin, just like her. She had you to be ambitious and cunning and sly and whatever with. She had someone to sit next to at lunch, and whisper with in the middle of the night, just because she _could_.

"People like her need people like you, and people like you need people like her. So get better. She doesn't have anyone else like you, and she'll fall apart without you."

"Oh, and before I forget," I added quickly, digging around in my bag. "Here." I pulled out a violet. "I nicked this from Herbology. She told us it was your favourite flower."

I placed the violet on Amanda's chest. I grabbed the hand that wasn't in Charli's and put it over the flower. I found blankets from an unoccupied bed and threw them over Charli.

This action woke her up. She raised her head and opened her bleary eyes. "What time is it?" she slurred groggily.

"About midnight, I reckon," I replied. "I was talking to Amanda."

She blinked owlishly at me. "You were?"

I nodded. "I was."

"What did you say?"

"I said that I wanted her to get better because you need her, and she needs you."

Charli dropped her head back down on Amanda's stomach. "No, she doesn't. She's so much better without me."

"Yes, she does. She needs you because you're you. You need her because she's her. Just like I need you because you're you, and I need Lee because he's him, and I need Angelina because she's her, and..." I took a deep breath. "And most of all, I need Fred and George because they're them. I feel about them how you feel about Amanda. I wouldn't be able to function without them. I'm practically a triplet. If one of them got sick like this, I would maybe take it even worse than you are. If one of them..." I trailed off. I couldn't say it out loud.

She was quiet for a minute. Then—

"_Midnight_

_ Not a sound from the pavement_

_ Has the moon lost her memory?_

_ She is smiling alone._"

I smiled sadly and continued for her.

"_In the lamplight_

_ The withered leaves collect at my feet_

_ And the wind begins to moan._"

We sang together.

"_Every streetlamp seems to beat_

_ A fatalistic warning_

_ Someone mutters, and a streetlamp gutters_

_ And soon it will be morning._"

I think we both had tears in our eyes as we got to the chorus.

"_Memory_

_ All alone in the moonlight_

_ I can smile at the old days_

_ I was beautiful then. _"

I know I was crying by that point. It was amazing that this song was so appropriate in this situation. Amanda's sickness. My lycanthropy. Charli's Housemates hating her. Heck, even my family a little bit. All the horrible things that had ever happened to us all spiraled down to form this one moment.

"_I remember _

_ The time I knew what happiness was_

_ Let the memory_

_ Live again._

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_Charli: *crying* Why did you have to remind me of that? *walks away with her hands over her face*

Johanna: I...I can't make a joke right now. I'm going now. *walks off after Charli*

RandomFandom: C'mon, guys, don't cry...um...*turns to audience* I'm going to go calm them down. Reviews will cure Amanda. *chases after Johanna and Charli*


	11. In Which Christmas Is Enough

Chapter Eleven: In Which Christmas Is Enough

RandomFandom: Sorry for not getting to update in time for Christmas. I had stuff that I was doing. Now that it's winter break, I have entirely too much time on my hands for updating/writing.

Johanna: *singing* _Sleigh bells ring, are ya listenin'? In the lane, snow is glistenin'..._

RandomFandom: I'm glad to see you and Charli have stopped crying. Disclaimer, please.

Johanna: Oh, right, right. RaFa doesn't own Harry Potter or Christmas. As if she could ever own stuff that awesome.

RandomFandom: Normally I would be offended, but you're right.

Johanna: *continues singing* _A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight, walkin' in a winter wonderland._

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_Dear Mum,_

_ It's us. We're doing as well as anyone could, under the circumstances. We're sure you've heard about the student coming down with a mystery virus. That student is our friend Charli's—you remember we told you about her?—best friend, so that's really been getting her down. _

_ Speaking of that, we're writing to see if she could come and stay with us over break? We think it would help her cheer up a bit. We can pump her full of your cooking and make her help decorate the Burrow and let her tell Ron and Ginny that Slytherins eat people and have snowball fights with her and everything. Well, maybe not the telling-Ron-and-Ginny-that-Slytherins-eat-people thing. Only Ron would believe her anyway._

_ So, can she come? She'd love it, we'd love it, everyone would be happy for a while. _

_ Love,_

_ Fred, George, and Johanna_

_P.S. Don't try to fatten her up _too _much. She's not underfed, she's just built like a twig naturally. _

_P.P.S. Actually, she is a bit underfed lately, because she's been skipping meals too stay with Amanda (that's the sick girl's name) in the hospital wing. You can fatten her up, just don't be obvious about it. She's sensitive about her size._

This was the letter that we sent Mrs. Weasley before Christmas break. We pretty much already knew what her answer would be. I mean, why wouldn't she want someone else she could fawn over and tell how tall they were (even though with Charli, it would be a complete lie)?

We got the answer we expected: of course Charli could come spend the holidays with us.

We failed to consult Charli herself about coming to the Burrow, so when we told her, she screamed at us for about half an hour before finally agreeing that she would come with us. This agreement was greeted with a chorus of loud yays and administration of bone-crushing hugs. I even planted a kiss on her cheek. At this, she blushed furiously and hit me.

The day arrived when we could get on the train home for the holidays. Before we left, Charli told us that she had to go and do something. We followed her and saw her with two people in the entrance hall. We immediately knew who the hysterical platinum-blonde woman and the stony-faced, auburn-haired man were, and not just because of their hair colours, mind you. It felt awkward to watch Charli with Amanda's parents, so we left and went back to where she had left us.

When we found a compartment, the first thing Charli did was claim the seat closest to the window and curl up into a tight ball. We think she fell asleep around an hour into the train ride and slept until we only had two hours left until Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. How she managed to sleep through our Exploding Snap game is beyond me.

We finally got to the station. I think Mrs. Weasley was surprised at Charli. From our description of her, I think she may not have gotten "shy, sickly-looking hobbit who seems like she's going to cry at any second." That was due to the fact that only the hobbit part was normally true.

Charli, however, wasn't at all surprised at the Burrow. It was exactly how we described it: not exactly conventional, but still the definition of home. The first thing she did when we got there was scoop up one of the chickens and hold it in her scrawny arms for a minute. We grinned at each other. She had already done a lot of cheering up.

We introduced her to the other Weasleys at dinner. She got along extremely well with them. She even tried with Percy, which was more than we could say. "Maybe it's because Percy's the most Slytherin-ish of the lot," suggested George.

She slept on a cot in our room that night. It's funny—as I was falling asleep, I thought I saw her smile.

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The days flew by, and soon enough, we woke up in the time that can barely be called morning and starting screaming like little kids. "IT'S CHRISTMAS!" we howled, jumping on Charli's cot to wake her up. One of the best things about sharing a room with her is that we get to see her in the morning. Seeing her with her hair out of its normal neat ponytail is odd enough, but her having bedhead is hilarious.

"Christmas?" she asked in her I-just-woke-up-voice. She sat bolt upright. "CHRISTMAS!" she wailed, souding exactly like us.

Of course, the People In Charge Of Everything knew Charli was at the Burrow, so the owls came with her presents. We still insisted that it was Father Christmas.

From Mrs. Wealsey, I, of course, got a sweater. From the twins, I got a lunar calendar with a note that said, "We circled Those Days for you." They each got a smack upside the head for that. From Charli, I got some face paint, which also came with a note. It read, "You'll need it for the play." I didn't smack her upside the head for that. From Angelina and Lee, I got very large boxes of candy.

I got the twins a list of potions that made disgusting things happen (we high-fived). For Charli, the twins and I pooled our money and got a thick book of cures for diseases with a note that said, "Maybe you'll find something." I got Percy a notebook with a note (what is with all the notes?) saying, "It's a Scribble Notebook. You scribble in it when you just feel like scribbling." The look in his eyes told us, "I'm throwing this out as soon as Mum looks away." I got Angelina a Holyhead Harpies t-shirt and Lee a dictionary and a box of breath mints (what? His breath is the stuff of nightmares).

The last thing Charli opened was what looked like a card. It turned out to be a letter, the parchment curling out onto the floor. Charli's huge eyes darted back and forth across the parchment, growing wider as she read.

She dropped the letter and put her hands over her mouth. To our horror, her eyes were unusually bright.

"What's wrong?" we demanded.

Charli turned to us. To our amazement, a huge, shining grin erupted over her face. Her words came out as barely more than a whisper.

"Amanda woke up."

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We anxiously awaited the day we were due back at Hogwarts. Once it came, we rushed like we never had before. Charli was bouncing up and down in her seat, fidgeting and glancing out the window. She squirmed her way through dinner, and when we were dismissed she zoomed off in the direction of the hospital wing.

We heard the soft cry of "Charli!" before we entered the room. The aroma of sickness was still there, but it was less overpowering.

"AMANDA!" shrieked Charli. She ran over to the bed and hugged Amanda tighter than anyone had ever hugged anyone ever before. "I MISSED YOU SO MUCH! NEVER GET SICK EVER AGAIN!" she bawled. We privately agreed, seeing as Charli would probably freak out if Amanda ever so much as sneezed again.

"Charli..." said Amanda. "Charli, I'm still really sick. It's just that I can talk now. Could you go easy on the hugs?"

"Oh yeah...okay."

I think, even though she agreed to her best friend's words, she didn't really obey them. Either that, or Amanda's digestive system was affected by this mystery virus, for we all got ordered out by Mme. Pomfrey when Charli got vomited upon.

In the Christmas chapter last book, I said that, though it had its ups and downs, that Christmas really was the perfect Christmas. Well, the Christmas described in this chapter was far from the perfect Christmas. I think you would be able to tell that by now.

But at least there was Christmas. At least there was one day out of the year when we could forget our angsty lives and open presents and give hugs and drink hot cocoa until our eyes went blurry.

Even if it wasn't perfect, it was still Christmas.

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Johanna: *singing again* _Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light..._

RandomFandom: *opens her mouth to tell Johanna to ask for reviews, then changes her mind* What can I say? Christmas never dies! *sings* _From now on, our troubles will be out of sight..._

Charli: Review, please! *sings* _Have yourself a merry little Christmas, make the Yuletide gay..._


	12. From Johanna, With Love And Thanks

Dear readers,

It's not very likely that many people are going to read this. RaFa hasn't updated in a bazillion years (school and other fandoms. Mostly the other fandoms), and I had so few fans as it is. The reasons for this will be explained in this letter.

First off, we would both like to apologize.

See, RaFa hasn't had much inspiration for me. She's had some inspiration for my friends, but not me. Why is that, you ask? Well, I'm glad you asked. I am what is known by you folk as a "Mary-Sue." For those of you who might not know, that's an original character who is unrealistic by having too few flaws. Look back on my epic story. When has it stated that I'm not attractive? Never, that's when. That's because I'm a Mary-Sue. It only adds to my Suedom that I'm a werewolf/Parselmouth. Never mind that the odds of that are about nothing, that sets me apart from everyone else. Plus I'm Harry Potter's sister. And it gives me something to angst about.

Have you noticed when you were reading my story that there are a lot of scenes that are, well, pointless? The reason for this is simple: _I'm_ pointless. In all honesty, I can't believe RaFa hadn't realized this until now. Harry Potter doesn't need a sister. The books and films worked just fine without me, so what reason is there to have me? None. You've probably realized where this is going by now.

Long story short, by the time you're reading this letter, I won't exist.

RaFa will always remember me as the plot of the first fanfiction she ever wrote. She'll remember the funny author's notes. She'll remember how she felt when she finished the first installment in my story. She even finished the story this letter is a chapter of.

If RaFa had kept going with me, you would have read about my brother meeting me for the first time. You would have found out I was dyslexic (only a little bit, thank Remlin). You would have watched as I navigated puberty alongside my friends. You would have seen me venture into the Chamber of Secrets. You would have met my dog, Pip, and been just as shocked as me when you discovered I was Prefect. You would have seen me meet Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and, in a way, Prongs. You would have watched my name go tumbling into the Goblet of Fire, and registered my surprise when my brother was picked and not me. You would have been there when I kissed Fred after the Yule Ball. You would have felt my scar burn almost as hot as Harry's when Voldemort was reborn. You would have gone to DA meetings and flown out the door with me and the twins. You would have watched as we opened Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. You would have seen Fred propose to me, and heard my yes. You would have stood alongside me as I huddled at the table with the Order, saying that yes, I was pregnant, but I could still go on missions. You would have met my and Fred's daughter, Emily Hermione Weasley-Potter. You would have fought with me at the Battle and felt my anguish when Fred died.

You might not have, though. That's the thing. You probably wouldn't have stayed with me. It's not surprising. My own author couldn't stick with me to the _beginning_, let alone _you_ staying to the end. I don't blame you. If I were you, I wouldn't have stuck with me, either.

I remember when I was just a vague thought in RaFa's mind. I had black hair and I sang a lot and I left when Ron did in Deathly Hallows. I wouldn't leave her alone. So she had to write about me. That's why I'm writing this at all. I wouldn't get out of her head. I was trapped in her mind (it's a terribly messy and disturbing place. Don't go there) until she wrote about me. I guess I'm still pretty vague, or else this wouldn't be the end.

It's _not_ the end, though. You can't get rid of dear old RaFa that easy. It's only the end for me. Charli and Amanda are going to have their story told (lucky them). They'll do just fine without me.

And, you know? Maybe it's not the end for me, either. If RaFa ever gets another use for me (I won't be Johanna _Potter_, that's for sure), I could come back. But that probably won't happen. And she'll definitely be writing more. She's working on several stories in The Lord of the Rings and Les Miserables fandoms, and there's an original story too.

Until then...

Mischief managed,  
Johanna

P.S. Thank you so much to everyone who followed, favorited, and especially reviewed. RaFa had a list, but it's not here right now. But you're the only reason I've existed this long. Yes, that includes you, person reading this. Even if you didn't review or follow or favorite, RaFa would be so happy to know you're reading this. Come back and see what she has in store. Even flamers are welcome. See you on the other side!


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